I Am Sam
by Reiko-ish
Summary: Sam reflects on his life. Mentions of Wincest. Steer clear if you don't like Rated M just in case.


**Disclaimer:**I own not the Supernatural boys, I just twist them to my own peverted pleasures.   
**Warning:**** WINCEST - Don't like it, I'm not asking you to read it.**

**First Story - Eh. R&R if you want. You don't have to, but appreciated - specially a critique of writing style and what could be done to improve said style.  
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I Am Sam**

I Was Sam.

I have been Sam, whose mind works in mysterious ways, through flashes of blinding pain and nightmares foretelling other living beings' death. I was Sam, who thought that normal could be an attained lifestyle if one tried hard enough, only to have that idea ripped away both suddenly and viciously.

I was Sam aged 2 months, when my elder brother Dean pulled me from the fire that raged within our household and caused the death of my mother. I am Sam aged 22, who would not be alive had it not been for Dean's or my father's actions regarding my safety that night.

I was Sam aged 1 year, when I spoke my first word which happened to be the name of my brother. I am Sam aged 22, who now possesses a large vocabulary due to my 'higher education' but will still fall back on 'Bite me' when appropriate – which is often.

I was Sam at 2 years, when I told my family that I loved them more then the moon and the stars – and meant it in a childish innocent sort of way. I am Sam still aged 22, who reminds his brother frequently that he loves him when we're cuddling harmlessly in a hotel room.

I was Sam aged 3, when I finished reading my first book. I was so proud I strutted around the room like I owned the whole place, glowing from the praise received from my brother. I am Sam aged 22, who flushes lightly with pride when I draw a soft velvety moaning of my name from my brother's lips.

I was Sam at the tender age of 4, when I discovered an interest in Dean's hands and the way he handled a gun, with extreme care even when just cleaning it. I am Sam now at 22, who is more interested in the pleasure Dean puts his hands to on my body then anywhere else I can think of.

I was Sam aged 5, when I first started primary school and found something I enjoyed doing, felt I belonged and never wanted to leave behind this sort of normalcy. I am Sam aged 22, who left behind a college graduation and temptation of normality for an invitation to help find the sucker that killed my mother and girlfriend, and I couldn't be happier.

I was Sam aged 6, and was already school hopping, and becoming resentful of the way Dad kept uprooting me to go hunt demons and spirits. I am Sam at 22, and am still resenting my father for shifting as much as we did but not nearly as much – and I've grown accustomed to being on the move.

I was Sam at age 7, who was continually telling my brother to stop demeaning me by calling me "Sammy" as I hated the very thought of that nickname. I am Sam aged 22, who is still reminding my brother that I am no longer a chubby little kid.

I was Sam age 8, when I received my first kiss from a girl in my class. It felt funny as she threw her arms around my neck and placed a quick touch to my lips with hers before laughing and running off. I am Sam aged 22, who realises that the only reason that the sensation was so awkward was because I already had someone else buried in the confines of my soul.

I was Sam age 9, when I first became afraid of the dark, told my father and was handed a weapon in response. I am Sam aged 22, who still holds a faint grudge over the matter but realises that safety and protection is slightly more important then some squabbling over a stupid piece of history.

I was Sam age 10, when Dean told me that I couldn't sleep in his bed anymore and that I was old enough to sleep by myself. I am Sam now aged 22, and still requiring my brother to snuggle against me to quieten me down when the dreams start to become to much for me to bear.

I was Sam age 11, who got into trouble for picking another fight with a kid at school and was punished by Dean for it. I am Sam 22 years of age, and certainly none the wiser – still getting into trouble and still being reprimanded however creatively by my older brother.

I was Sam age 12, when I finished my Primary education and moved on to Junior High. I am Sam aged 22, who still cares about education, but cares so much more about his brother that he left all that higher learning stuff to be with Dean at all times.

I was Sam age 13, when my skin decided to stretch itself over my growing bones, settling into a kind of lankiness that can only be achieved by the uncoordinated. I am Sam aged 22, whose muscles overrode the lankiness my body wanted to accept and replaced it with something a little tougher that caught the attention of Dean, my apparently depraved brother.

I was Sam age 14, when I went on my first hunt. It was a simple task involving salting and burning the bones of some deranged maniac who slaughtered people that told secrets they'd been sworn to silence by. Just the thought of senseless violence caused me to throw up. I am Sam aged 22, who has lost track of just how many hunts I've been on, but the same sickness still overcomes me at the worst of times.

I was Sam age 15, when Dean got drunk and tried to kiss me. Despite the fact it was sloppy and smelt entirely of alcohol, it felt right, but the fact we were brothers caused me to push him away. I am Sam aged 22, who doesn't care how Dean kisses but eagerly draws him closer every time he starts those sinfully delicious movements with his mouth.

I was Sam age 16, when I got laid for the first time in the back of a Buick to another classmate called Maddy. It was uncomfortable at first, but easier to go along with once we'd started going. Yet afterwards, it still didn't feel quite right. I am Sam still at 22, who can't really remember it all that well because having mind-blowing sex almost everyday

I was Sam age 17, when I left home to pursue a college education despite the despair of my brother and the anger of my father who told me to 'leave and never come back'. I am Sam aged 22 who has no home to speak of.

I was Sam age 18, when I met Jess. She was beauty personified but for some reason she just didn't match up to my standards yet that didn't stop her pursuing me. I am Sam aged 22, who regrets stringing her along and should've told her the truth, but without her sacrifice I would not have realised who it was that makes me whole.

I was Sam age 19, when Jess and me moved in together. It still didn't feel right but she acted enough like someone I knew to provide some comfort. I am Sam aged 22, who realises that Jess was like Dean except female. Gorgeous, sexy, stubborn and sometimes just a general pain in the ass all around and that in all honesty, I was replacing Dean with someone who was like him in almost every way.

I was Sam age 20, when I discovered the aching loneliness I had for Dean who'd kept me safe all these years yet never once did anything to contact him and shoved him to the briefest corners of my mind while trying to study for an exam. I am Sam now at 22, who wished he'd picked up the phone and called his brother, saving everyone, especially Dean, Jess and himself a whole lot of heartache.

I was Sam age 21, when I received the briefest of telephone messages from my brother practically begging me to reconsider and pick up the phone next time Dad called. I am Sam aged 22, who never did pick up that phone the next time, but is currently making amends with male authority in my life, thanks to Dean's pleading and letting me know that Dad DID actually care.

I am Sam now who has every opportunity open to him but chooses to remain in the company of his brother and protector and wouldn't trade it for the world. I am Sam who couldn't be happier with the way things have turned out when lying in my brothers arms, listening to the soft pants and grunts, and gently licking at the expose flesh, feeling the salty taste of Dean's skin while lazing in the hazy aftermath of sex.

I _am_ Sam.

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Whatcha think? D 


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